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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479431">Music Lessons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffandRuffle1/pseuds/Ruffle'>Ruffle (PuffandRuffle1)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate SG-1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, Smarm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:09:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffandRuffle1/pseuds/Ruffle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel has an ulterior motive for buying that piano for his apartment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Music Lessons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I’m sure Jack doesn’t suspect a thing. He may be the black ops expert, but I’ve learned a thing or two in my time with the SGC, many of them by watching Jack. I have to admit I spend enough time at that occupation. Watching Jack, that is. It’s practically become a second vocation. If they ever advertise for a professional Jack-watcher, I’ve got the experience for the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When did it go from looking to follow Jack’s lead, watching my
teammate’s back, casually exchanging silent communication with my best
friend, to this hungry, longing need to drink in every aspect of his
appearance on a regular basis? It must have happened gradually because I
don’t remember any life-altering revelation. Oh, there was a point where I
consciously admitted I was in love with Jack, but it was an acknowledging
of how I’d felt for a long time rather than a sudden falling
head-over-heels the way it was with Sha’re.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve known I enjoyed Jack’s company. No, that’s not strong enough.
Being with Jack meant being safe, protected, valued, warm, happy. Not
being with Jack meant being down, alone, empty, chilled, incomplete. I
think it took me a while to put it together that Jack was the common
denominator in the changes in my moods. I’m supposed to be a genius, but I
don’t think I can blame myself for missing that clue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once I did figure things out, it’s not like it changed anything. I
mean, there’s no way I could act on my feelings. I can just imagine Jack’s
reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“This is really good pizza, Jack, and oh by the way, did I mention
I’m in love with you?”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“Geez, Daniel, what’s in that stuff you’re drinking? Did Ferretti
spike the cappucino machine with booze again?”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“There’s nothing in my coffee, Jack. I meant what I said.”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“Ha ha. Good one, Daniel. That’s a real knee-slapper. Bet you really
had them going at the Abydonian comedy club.”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“I’m serious.”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span>“Ah. Well, in that case, do you want your ass kicked now or after I
boot you off the team?”</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, the news would go down real well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So I couldn’t say anything. I just hugged the feeling to myself and
continued to spend as much time with Jack as I could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main problem with that was that lately it seemed like we were
spending less and less time with just the two of us. Whether hanging out
at Jack’s house or going out when SG-1 had some downtime, Sam and Teal’c
were always around, or Janet and Cassie, or even Ferretti and the other
guys from base. Jack’s a real popular guy. Not that I don’t want to spend
time with my friends, too, but I had to figure out a way to get Jack to
myself occasionally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So that’s why I bought the piano.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve known Jack was an opera and classical music lover from way back,
but I didn’t find out he played an instrument himself until the last base
Christmas party. I think Jack surprised even himself when he ended up
fingering the keys of the old Baldwin in the rec room. He may sing
off-key, but his playing is an entirely different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jack has very skillful, competent
hands. He can field strip a weapon, wield a hockey stick, build a fire,
prepare a meal, kill an enemy, shuffle a deck of cards, use military hand
signals – all efficiently and gracefully. I can only imagine how talented
those hands would be at making love… I can only imagine. So the piano
turning out to be his instrument made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I followed my impulse and bought a piano for Jack. Not that he knows I
got it for him. I’m sure he hasn’t guessed. It was completely natural to
ask him to help me brush up my rusty skills. I only ever learned the
basics as a kid and hadn’t played in years. This was a chance for Jack not
only to lead me from Chopsticks to Chopin, but to share something he
loved, like he’s always trying to do with hockey and fishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was a chance for me to sit next to Jack on the piano bench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Side by side like now, shoulders brushing, fingers tangling as he
patiently corrects my mistakes. Feeling his body heat, shivering at the
occasional puff of his breath as he murmurs instructions next to my ear.
Breathing in his woodsy, faintly musky-sweat-tinged scent. It’s my one
chance to be physically close to him, to have him all to myself, and I
know it’s the most I’ll ever get. I can’t have Jack, not the way I want,
so is it so much to ask to have this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stumble over the next chord, notes clashing discordantly as my
fingers trip, then halt. I’m not in any great hurry to learn, which is
such a different feeling for me. But what’s going to happen when I’ve
absorbed all Jack can teach me? How can I lose these sessions together?
How can I find something else to take their place? How can I…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warm fingers close over mine as I become aware of Jack’s voice softly
concerned. Lifting panicked eyes, I see him gazing at me, a puzzled frown
in the honeyed brown depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did I do? Did I do something, say something wrong? No, I was
thinking so much I probably zoned out. I can explain that easily enough,
say I was concentrating on the lesson and just lost track of everything
else, just like I’m doing now staring into Jack’s dark eyes, drawn into
their warmth, fascinated as they change from puzzlement through the stages
of working out a problem and something – understanding? hope? – clicks
into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink, coming back to awareness. Oh no, I did it again. How many
zone-outs can I justify without coming off as a complete space case?
“J-jack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel.” A husky note roughens Jack’s voice. His eyes take on those
little crinkly lines in the corners he gets when he smiles, and sure
enough, those mobile lips are widening into a pleased curve. Is he
laughing? Is something funny? What…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly I’m aware my hand is still in Jack’s. Not only didn’t I pull
away, I’ve actually turned it, curled my fingers around his, rhythmically
caressing his knuckles with my thumb. Oh God, I’m holding hands with Jack!
I have totally blown everything. How could I not have noticed what I was
doing; how could I be so stupid?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to pull away now, knowing it’s too late, but Jack grips
harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Danny, it’s okay.” His expression as soft as his voice, Jack raises
his other hand and strokes it through my hair back to the nape of my
neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What is he doing? I freeze. I can’t move, can’t think. All I can do is
stare into those eyes, their softness suddenly flaring with a fire quickly
banked. They move nearer as Jack leans forward, and then his lips press a
kiss on mine. It’s gentle, exploring, inviting. Fleeting while somehow
infinite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My whole world is crashing and rearranging around me while somehow at
the still center one clear thought is careening through my brain. Jack is
kissing me. Jack is KISSING me. JACK is kissing ME.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back and looks at me, a question plain in those eyes, the fire
blazing more hotly in their smoky depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit a moment, breathing ragged, reading his eyes, feeling the burn
sparking from his eyes to mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice prods me to action. It doesn’t matter if I can’t think. I can
feel, and this feels right. Pressing close I kiss Jack, answering the
invitation, fire transferring from eyes to lips, setting my entire body
aflame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I feel Jack’s arms go around me, his hands holding me close, I know
I will finally get the chance to find out how those hands make love. And I
know it’s going to be all right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We don’t need Chopin anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack and I will make our own music together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>THE END</span>
</p>
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